are you telling this story or am I?
"Oh, I know. We've all heard the noises comin' from your houseboat. Your meat's more than just punchable," Fiadh drawls, taking the bark from between her teeth now to try and prod the canvas away from the box, as if that's somehow going to protect her from any nasty surprises from the (hopefully) supplies within it. She's already crouching on her heels as if she might open the box when Remi makes his annoyingly good points, and so Fiadh grumbles and crab walks away until she considers herself a 'safe' distance.
"A'right, what you holdin'..." she grumbles at the box, unwrapping it and lifting the lid on it, only to snap a sudden stream of musical curses. They are loud enough to have people peeping out from the tents and some scrawny carrion birds flapping away. Rising to her feet, Fiadh whips around, red cheeked, and thrusts the box at Remi.
Within is a note, in Ianto's perfectly looped handwriting.
"A'right, what you holdin'..." she grumbles at the box, unwrapping it and lifting the lid on it, only to snap a sudden stream of musical curses. They are loud enough to have people peeping out from the tents and some scrawny carrion birds flapping away. Rising to her feet, Fiadh whips around, red cheeked, and thrusts the box at Remi.
Within is a note, in Ianto's perfectly looped handwriting.
Hi.
Fiadh
Raccoon | Red Fox | Red Kite | Boomslang | Otter | Harpy
